


And When I Went, You Were There With Me

by Verasteine



Category: EastEnders
Genre: Angst, M/M, Recovery, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-12-21
Updated: 2010-12-21
Packaged: 2017-10-13 22:45:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,553
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/142550
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Verasteine/pseuds/Verasteine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When people try to carve words into your skin, it takes a long time to get them out.</p>
            </blockquote>





	And When I Went, You Were There With Me

**Author's Note:**

> Much gratitude to [](http://smirnoffmule.livejournal.com/profile)[**smirnoffmule**](http://smirnoffmule.livejournal.com/) for giving this a look over even when he doesn't watch the show that much. Born out of my firm belief that you can't throw that much anguish at Syed, and expect him to come away without a scar. Enjoy.

Christian doesn't talk about his nightmares.

There's loads of things they don't talk about, now that they're happy and everything seems perfect. Sy doesn't talk about the pain of being separated from his family, and pretends that seeing Tam is substitute enough. Sy doesn't talk about his religion, and how it hurts that he's on his own in that, too. Christian can see it, in his eyes, and he lets it all go unsaid because he's got no words to fix it. He never will.

He lets Tam come into their home and is glad for it, for the smiles that light up Sy's face, for the kisses that follow after the door closes behind Tamwar, for everything that they do have, that they can talk about.

But he doesn't talk about his nightmares.

\--

Some days he wonders if Sy doesn't know, or if Sy ignores it.

They share a bed now, every night, and it's a blessing to wake and be able to turn into the warmth of Syed's body. Some nights, Sy curls into him, and some nights, Sy sleeps spread-eagled, pushing Christian into the wall, who takes that discomfort with undying devotion. And when Syed wakes, he apologises and they laugh, and it's beautiful because it's more than Christian had ever hoped to have.

No half life, this, and he's grateful for it every day. His gratitude is unspecified; Sy's is to God.

He wakes from a nightmare and finds Syed in his bed, warm, breathing, asleep but alive, and it's the miracle that he can't quite believe in. He reaches out and pulls Sy close, and gets a protesting, half-woken murmur of, " _wha_ \--" before Syed recognises him, even in sleep, and curls closer.

Syed doesn't question these moments, and Christian wonders, some days.

\--

When Sy wakes from his nightmares, it's shaking with horror, pure dread swimming in his eyes, catapulting Christian into wakefulness with a jolt of adrenaline. Sy shivers for a long time, gasping for breath, and Christian holds him to his chest and strokes his hair.

They talk about it, sometimes, when Syed opens up because talking makes it less real.

"I couldn't find myself," he says, the tremors making his voice break. "I was lost. They were telling me to let you die, and I couldn't, you needed to be, I don't--"

It often doesn't make any sense, these ramblings, but Christian has nightmares of his own, and understands.

Sy shakes, silently now, and Christian gives him his reprieve.

\--

 _Sy goes, turns away, says, "I'm sorry," and takes Amira's hand._

 _Barcelona is a city of grey, which is strange because he remembers it having colours. Now, it only has walls, and he can't get out._

 _He's the one to find Sy, bottle of pills by his side, no longer breathing._

 _"They cured me," Syed says, voice dead and robotic, and holds out a hand. "They can cure you, too."_

\--

He wakes quietly, eyes opening slowly, feeling cold all over, in spite of the covers. His eyes adjust to the dim and he slides a hand across the mattress, looking for a source of warmth, of security, that will chase it all away.

"Were you dreaming?" Syed asks, and Christian sees that he's sitting up, looking down at him.

He pushes up on one elbow, leaning back to see Syed better. "Might have been."

"You were..." Syed lifts a hand above the sheets, hesitantly, and then reaches out, tracing his thumb over Christian's cheek. Christian knows what he finds there. "You were crying," Sy says, and his voice is curious, laced with surprise and guilt and maybe a little fear.

Christian briefly closes his eyes. Sy's hand is warm, and he is so very cold.

"You don't have to talk about it," Sy offers.

He looks at his boyfriend, looks at everything he's been given against all odds, and holds the fear tight in his heart. "I love you," he says, because he'll never tire of being able to say it and not be reproached.

Sy smiles briefly. "I love you, too. You know that."

He slides closer, settling his head on Syed's chest.

"Wow, you're cold." Syed rubs a hand over his arm.

Christian wraps his arms around Syed's waist, and just stays there. He knows he's clinging, but it's okay. Just them against the world, this late at night.

"Christian," Syed begins, and it's the tone that he knows well. The tone Sy uses to start conversations about how to be in a relationship, the tone which ask the hesitant questions, because neither of them have much experience with love, but Syed's insecurities are a mile wide after years of trying to choose a path that wasn't his. "Is something wrong?"

He wants to say no, deny it, but he can't get the words out of his throat. Tears are looming dangerously close, and he bites his lip. "I--"

"Hey..."

Sy holds him, just like that, nothing more asked of him, and it's too much. "I dream about you," Christian says, words spilling out. "About everything that didn't happen, but could've. Sometimes, I dream that you've gone away, that you were never here, that you stayed with her, that... everything, really."

Syed's hand freezes in his hair.

"I dream about therapy." His voice is low.

Yes, Christian has figured that out. You don't get nightmares of the kind Syed has from the sort of blissful upbringing Sy's had. Christian knows far too much about abusive childhoods and overcoming them to know that Sy doesn't. But therapy of this sort -- he knows about that, too, even if it isn't from firsthand experience.

"We make an odd couple," Christian says with a laugh, and it sounds bitter.

Sy puts a finger under his chin, and Christian lifts his head to look up at him. "You're not going to lose me," he says. "Not to Amira, not to my family, not to a counsellor who isn't worth his fees." He sighs. "It's not always easy, but I love you, and I'm where I want to be."

Christian takes his hand and kisses his knuckles. Syed watches him, dark eyes that are nearly his undoing.

"I mean what I say, Christian. I know I haven't always, in the past, but... things are different now."

"I know," Christian says, because he believes it. Knows, even, that he can trust it.

"I..." Sy breathes in, slowly, lets out his breath and looks away. This, Christian knows also; the part where it's too hard to look at each other. Sy used to do it when he was torn between things, and now that there are no more lies between them and the outside world, he does it still, when something's tearing him apart inside. He sits up further, and Christian pulls away at the tension he can feel in Syed's body. Sy gets up, walks away from their warm bed, shivers at the cool air in the room.

"I should have never done it," he says.

"You were desperate," Christian argues.

"For what?" Sy asks, looking at him again. "My family's approval? I thought so little of myself, of you, that I would rather let my mind be filled with that-- poison?"

"Syed..." Christian tries, sitting up. "You..." He doesn't want to say, _you tried to kill yourself_ , but he knows the truth is in there somewhere. "You thought you had no one left."

"I knew I had you."

"No, you didn't. We weren't exactly talking."

"It's in my head!" Sy says, gesturing, eyes shining. "It's in my head and I can't fucking get it out." Then he looks at the floor. "And you... You cry in your sleep while you lie in bed with me, it's..."

"What?"

Syed wraps his arms around himself, a vain attempt to keep warm or to keep the pain in, Christian doesn't know. "It's sick, this, like this... God."

Christian's stomach freefalls, plummeting, fear spiralling around inside him.

"Sy..." he tries, because he's wishing he was still sleeping, knowing that he could wake up. This is too much. " _Please_..."

Syed's staring at him, brown eyes taking him in, and Christian wants to look away, but he's mesmerised. Sy's eyes widen, and he is with him in three strides, dropping down onto the bed and putting a hand to Christian's face. "Oh, God, no, not what I meant." His voice is filled with horror. He leans in and kisses Christian. "I didn't mean us, never, I'm sorry."

Christian's shaking, the fear and everything spilling out. He curls into Syed, into his touch, and he can't find shame for the tears on his face. Syed kisses them away. "I'm sorry," he whispers.

He's held to Syed's chest again, Sy's lips in his hair. "Never us," Sy says, "I promise, Christian."

He believes that promise, holds on to the warmth and the truth he can feel. "Then what?" he asks, his voice holding despite his suspicions to the contrary.

Syed shudders. "Doesn't matter."

Christian pulls away, lifts his hand to Syed's face, traces fingers over his skin. "It matters to you. So tell me."

It doesn't surprise him when Syed begins to cry, but it breaks his heart. "It's still in my head, sometimes. The words, the thoughts, everything."

"I know," Christian says. "But it's not who you are."

"I don't know," Syed replies. He's looking at Christian, wiping at his face, the anger and pain visible. And Christian wonders, as he often has before, how Masood and Zainab find it so easy to look at their eldest son and see this, and ask more of him.

"This is not your fault," Christian says, because he's not sure anyone's ever said it. He brushes Sy's hair out of his face. "It isn't, Sy."

"I chose it," Syed says, and looks down.

The guilty secret, or not so secret, maybe. "Did you?" Christian asks.

"I found him. My parents weren't sure, Tam told me I was making a mistake, but I needed it. There was someone who told me they could fix me."

"You wanted to believe."

Syed looks at him. "I wanted to stop hurting. Christian..."

"It's okay," Christian says, because sometimes Sy needs the benediction more than a resolution.

"You are... I..." Syed's still holding his eyes, but whatever he's trying to get across, whatever words he's struggling with are not coming. He sighs.

"Hey." Christian cups his cheek and looks him straight in the eye, because this bit's easy, no matter how many tears Christian'll shed over it. "We're here now."

"Yeah." Sy pulls away to brush the tears from his face, flushing a little. "Yeah."

Just when Christian thinks that they're going to settle back into bed, that this is blowing over, Syed looks up from under his hair and says, "You don't know what it's like, when someone says they can solve your problems, can make you feel accepted when no one else will."

It's a blow to his heart, no matter how much he was done with everything back then, if he'd been there for Sy, then... They wouldn't be here and things would be miles different, but he's not sure he's wishing for Syed to have gone through it all and come out so scarred just so he could have the happy ever after they have. A greater chasm of pain opens up in his chest when he gets a sudden, gut-wrenching empathy for the world of hurt Sy lived in for the last few months.

"He came up with these horrible things," Sy continues, his voice heavy and resigned, as if he's been holding this in all these months and now he knows it's spilling out. "These... _exercises_ where I should imagine disgusting things, and-- He used to talk about my 'lost masculinity' and it made me feel so-- worthless."

Christian concentrates on breathing so as not to see red, not to get up and find this bastard and knock his head in. When he looks up, Sy's curled in on himself, arms wrapped around himself, forehead resting on his knees.

"I get flashbacks sometimes," Syed continues, voice muffled, "to him telling me you were covered in lice, that you were disgusting, and I keep thinking, will that happen when we're... when we're in bed together, and I--" A single sob goes through his body. "I hate myself."

Christian wraps his arms around him, pulls him close, holds him to his chest. "No, Sy. No. Don't."

Sy takes a shaky breath against his shoulder. "I chose it," he repeats, guiltily.

"Yes, babe," Christian replies, "but you didn't choose that."

Sy's fingers curl around his arm, and Christian holds him, lets him cry it all out. It won't change anything tonight, but it'll lead the way to Sy forgiving himself, and that will be a step he needs to take.

He doesn't talk about his own nightmares.

\--

A month later, Syed comes home with a grin on his face, radiant and beautiful and _happy_ , and it's everything that threatens to make Christian's heart burst. He's up off the sofa in an instant, and Syed meets him with a wicked kiss.

"Thank you," he says when he pulls away, and Christian frowns.

"What for?"

"Being there for me." Sy squeezes his hand. "You've been amazing, and I want you to know I know that."

Christian raises their joined hands, pressing a kiss to Sy's knuckles. "What's brought this on?"

"I'm happy," Sy says. "And I was cooking breakfast this morning, and I thought, I can't remember the last time I've been this happy. You make me happy."

Sy, beaming, radiant, beautiful, _his_. It's too much to hold, really. "I love you," Christian says, and to his embarrassment, the tears are threatening to spill.

"Hey." Sy pulls his hand free to lay it on Christian's neck, thumb rubbing over his skin. Christian turns his head into the touch, closing his eyes and touching his lips to Syed's fingers. "I know the pressure's been on you a bit lately. So I'm telling you now, I intend to pull my weight a bit more around here."

Christian opens his eyes. "Does that mean you'll do the washing up?"

Syed laughs. "Yeah, maybe." He leans in to kiss Christian, and Christian wants nothing more than to pull him the six yards across the room to their bed. "What I meant is, you can lean on me from time to time."

Christian hides, presses his face into Syed's hair, and feels Sy stroking fingers down his back.

"I know it's been hard on you," Sy says, and his voice is soft, but full of strength and love. "But you can trust me. You can rely on me."

Christian shivers.

"You want to talk, I'm here. And I'll listen. Christian?"

He pulls away from his hiding place, and knows it when he sees Syed's eyes. Not ignored. Not rejected. Not anything except that Sy needed time to deal and cope. He can live with that. The future's bright, suddenly, with Sy in his arms, in his heart, in their home. "I love you," he says, and means it so much it hurts.

Sy ducks his head, smiles, presses a quick kiss to his lips. "And I love you."

He nods, finding Sy's hand again. Then, he starts to talk.

\--  
 _finis_.


End file.
